The Untold Story
by Goth Angel UK
Summary: What was it that really happened with Christine, Raoul and Erik after she left the Phantom? Very few knew the truth, and even fewer cared to tell it. E/C Based on the 2004 film.
1. Back to the Opera

'Five years,' she thought, as her feet carried her to the opera house. So much had changed for five years...

Christine had been happy at first, Raoul doting on her at every moment, showering her with his gentle love. He would take her to any party she wanted to visit, he would buy her any jewellery or dress that caught her eye. One year after their wedding, she gave birth to a beautiful boy. Raoul was overjoyed. But soon after, she began suffocating in the big mansion, her heart no longer felt joy in her husband's gentle kisses and she drifted away, Raoul quietly and sadly accepting what he felt he could not change. They stopped being intimate, using the child as a cover for the real reason. Christine felt an intense longing for a change, for a life where she wasn't safely tucked under warm blankets, for a life of intense passion and wonder, for a life where she could sing her own song again. She longed for the man who had made her spirit soar. She felt trapped, unable to leave Raoul because of little Charles. So the young woman suffered patiently, her only comfort being her son's loving embraces and gentle smiles.

All that had changed a few weeks ago. Charles fell ill, his cold turning into fever too quickly for the doctors to help. He died with cries for his mother on his trembling lips and with him something inside Christine died too.

Back home a letter was waiting for Raoul, telling him not to look for her and asking for forgiveness. As she was walking towards the opera, her heart beat faster and faster, and the speed of her footsteps changed in tune with it. Was he still there? Could he forgive her? Was he still alive?

As she walked through the doors, people recognized her and greeted her warmly. The word of her arrival spread and soon she was surrounded by acquaintances and friends, Meg dashing to envelope her in a bone-crushing hug as soon as she knew her friend was back. Christine put a smile on her face as she greeted everyone, sure that they could hear the thunderous beating of her heart. Was he still there? Was he alive?

After a while people started to disperse, returning to their business. Christine used the opportunity and, grabbing Meg by the hand, hurried away, towards the dormitories, the blond girl's questions cut short by her intense inquiery:

'Meg, do you know who lives in my old room?'

'I do. Why?'

'I need to put some old ghosts to rest,' the woman replied with a bitter smile at her own choice of words.

'Christine... No one's seen him since the accident,' Meg gently put her hand on her friend's shoulder. 'He's probably left the opera.'

The young woman sighed deeply.

'We can't be certain... Meg, I _need_ to see him.'

Her friend nodded sadly in quiet understanding. They proceeded through the dark corridors in silence. In front of the room Christine embraced Meg, then looked at her imploringly.

'I need to do this alone.'

'Christine...' the blond girl started but the heart-breaking look in her companion's eyes made the words die in her throat.

'I'll wait for you here.'

As the young woman stood in front of the big ornate mirror, she trembled and hesitated for a few seconds. Was he still alive? Was he there? She reached and pulled the mirror towards her, squeezing through the narrow slit.

'Oh, God...'

It was dark and cold, and she feared she wouldn't find her way in the tunnels. But her feet took her forward, almost independently of her brain, until she reached the lake. The barrier was up and Christine could see the boat on the other side. The woman remembered the water had only come as high as Raoul's hips when he had entered her angel's lair, so she stepped in, walking slowly at first, then faster and faster. Was he still alive? Was he there?

As she stepped into the cavernous room, Christine despaired, seeing that it was empty and in ruins. A sob escaped her lips, but as she went on forward, she saw the sheltered part where the big, intricately designed bed stood in its lonely glory. And inside lay a limp figure, a white mask covering the right half of his face.

Christine dashed forward, crying out unintelligible words of distress and grief. Her angel was pale and still, so still... He was dead!

She lay beside him, leaning her head on his bare chest, choking on her desolate sobs. Her warm tears rolled over the soft, cold skin.


	2. Past the Final Threshold

Christine didn't know how long she lay down crying, but just as the thought of ending her own life began forming in her mind, she felt the chest beneath her rise and fall weakly.

'Christine...'

'I'm here, my angel, I'm here! Oh, God, you're alive!'

The young woman started crying again, the emotions of the past weeks finally getting the best of her. She felt an arm going around her shoulders, then falling back down.

'Won't that torture ever stop?!' the man's anguished voice whispered. 'Will I see your ghost even when I'm dead? Oh, Christine! Christine!'

The tormented voice calling her name in despair pierced through Christine's heart like a knife.

'Oh, I'm here! I'm here, I'm really here! Touch me, feel me, my angel, I'm here!'

'Christine?' Hope fought with despair in the voice, once so clear and melodic, now barely a whisper. His hand came up limply to touch her cheek.

'How many times have I seen you like that, only to vanish before my eyes?'

'I'm here now, I'm not a dream. I'm as much flesh and blood as you, my love!'

A sob replied to her words, and as she lifted herself up, she saw the ghost's face was wet with tears. Christine slowly brought her lips down to cover his trembling mouth, tasting the salt on the cold lips.

'Call my name, call me Erik, my beautiful ghost.'

'Oh, Erik!'

She covered the bare part of his face with kisses, trying to bring back the warmth in it.

'Can you forgive me, Erik? Can you forgive me, my angel?'

'Oh, Christine! I am the one who should ask for forgiveness!' He choked on a cough and the woman rose in alarm, trying to bring his body up to sit on the bed. Her strength was only enough to prop his back against the bed frame.

'Oh, Erik! What have I done to you?' she sobbed in anguish. 'Please, tell me you'll live!'

As she rose from the bed determined to get help, Erik's hand grasped hers.

'Don't go! Don't leave me again alone with my madness!'

Swallowing her tears, Christine leaned to kiss him again.

'I won't leave you, my angel! But you're weak, you need help.'

'Stay with me! That's the only help I need!'

'You need to eat, to drink, and you probably need a doctor. I won't survive if you die, my love!'

His hand let go of hers and fell down. For a moment she was terrified that he had died but as she gently put her hand on his chest, she felt it rise and fall. He had just lost consciousness, the shock of seeing her again too much for him to bear in his weakened state.

'I'll be here when you open your eyes again, my angel! I swear!'

With that she fled from the bed, her journey back completed in a matter of minutes. Meg was waiting for her before the door. When she saw the state in which her friend was, the blond girl opened her arms and caught her as the inertia made Christine stumble and fall, nearly taking Meg down with her.

'Christine! Are you all right? What happened?'

'Oh, Meg! I need food and water! And a doctor – but I can't! I can't! If they knew he was still alive, they would get him and I'd die!'

'Christine, calm down! He's still there, isn't he?'

'Yes – but, Meg, he's dying! And it's all my fault!'

As Christine finally got herself together, her thoughts became more rational. She sent Meg to get some food and drink from the kitchens, both girls agreeing it wouldn't do for Christine to attract attention to herself by going with her, then she sat down in the room, the seconds feeling like hours in her mind.

When Meg was back, Christine told her she had left a bag of clothes in the little chapel before she had entered the opera, so as not to attract dangerous attention to her actions. She asked her friend to bring it when she could and leave it next to the mirror. Then the young woman hurried to Erik's lair, scared that if he came to alone, it would be the final blow to his shattered mind and body. Tears of relief came to her eyes as she saw him breathing quietly, eyes still closed. She sat on the bed and gently ran her fingers on his bare cheek, over his lips and down his throat. In a spontaneous urge to see all of his face, she tore the mask off. Her fingers touched the deformities. Suddenly he opened his eyes and caught her hand. Christine could see the wild fear in the deep emerald pools of suffering. She did the only thing she could to chase that fear away – she bent over and gently covered his face in kisses, her lips touching the marred skin lovingly. Erik half-sighed, half-sobbed and leaned into her caresses. After a while, she gently pulled back and reached for the big pitcher, pouring some water into a glass, then putting it to his lips. He drank it in big, thirsty gulps.

When he'd had some food, Erik felt strong enough to sit up on the bed, pulling Christine towards him, until she was resting her back on his chest, his hands wrapped tightly around her shoulders, as if he thought she would disappear if he let go of her. She rested her head on his shoulder and they spoke of anything and everything, Erik learning all about the four years of suffocation and longing, Christine weeping over the tale of his childhood. What he had been through since she had last seen him, though, was still a taboo. There would be time for that story later. When she felt he was getting tired, the girl helped him lay down, stretching next to him, their arms never letting go of each other.

During the next week Erik slowly recovered, Christine never far from his side. They slept together in the ornate bed, his caresses growing bolder as his strength was coming back to him. The young woman felt the fire inside her burn stronger with each passing day, threatening to consume her entirely. On the sixth night, as they lay locked in a tight embrace, she looked at her angel.

'Erik... how are you feeling?'

'Like I've died and gone to heaven,' he replied with a smile that lit his face and made Christine's heart flutter in her ribcage.

'I... I meant... have you recovered enough...' she blushed and left her question unfinished but the passion in her eyes conveyed her meaning. In reply, Erik swiftly and gracefully moved, so that she was pinned under him. His fingers slowly traced the outline of her face, then the graceful curve of her neck, coming to a stop on the soft mound of her breast. Christine's breathing quickened, coming out in short, irregular gasps. She had never felt anything as intense, the fire he was kindling a blazing furnace in a castle, when all Raoul had ever lit in her had been the fire of a beggar's hearth.

Erik's hand slid down the curve of her hip, then came up to rest between her thighs, while his lips gently caressed her breast through the thin chemise, then burnt a path down her stomach. Christine's fingers tangled in his thick hair as his mouth slid further down. Raoul had never touched her in such an intimate way. The girl felt the sensations build up until she screamed Erik's name as waves of intense pleasure washed over her.

'Oh, Christine... to hear you screaming my name like that... Never have I even dreamt of it...' He lay next to her, pressing her body tight to his, as she struggled to get her breath back, gentle blush spread over her pale skin. She could feel his want for her burning between them.

'I love you, Erik.'

'I love you more than anything, my angel. You brought me back from hell and showed me heaven.'

She caressed his muscular back, then her hand slid down, eliciting a gasp from him. Erik kissed her with all the passion that burned inside him. With a quick gesture her chemise was torn away and his fingers caressed all of her body, lighting the fire in her again. Another swipe and his trousers were gone, allowing them the exquisite pleasure of skin touching skin. As their bodies fused into one, the monster felt for the first time the heaven of love he had been denied for so very long. When their spirits reached the stars together, he wept, whispering Christine's name in his rapture. She held him in her arms, her gaze never leaving his beloved face. Gentle fingers traced the deformities, taking away all the years of pain and loneliness. They fell asleep still locked in each other's arms and the tears slowly dried off his face and his soul.

When they woke up, Erik told her the story of the last five years. If it hadn't been for Mme Giry, he would have died not long after Christine had left him. His childhood saviour had saved him again, taking care of his broken spirit as best as she could, keeping him from severing the thin thread that had still kept him connected to this world. But three months ago she had died, and he had stopped noticing anything around him, as he sat and played the piano all day long, sad, broken notes floating in the air until he was too weak to move from his bed. But even then something kept him from dying, stopped his spirit from escaping the cage of his body.

Christine wept and swore never to leave him again. He held her close, letting the warmth of her body heal the wounds his spirit had received during a lifetime of pain and torment.


	3. The Song Ends

In the course of the next few weeks Erik's health improved greatly under Christine's tender care, his soul healing up as fast as his body. When he was completely recovered, they set off on a trip which took them to a new beginning in England, where no one knew their disturbed past. The next years saw their love grow and as they lived with their children - a spirited boy and a little dark-haired beauty of a girl - in the big secluded mansion bought with the money Erik had saved over the years, the few friends they had always called them with a touch of envy the happiest couple they'd seen. Christine would often sing to the accompaniment of Erik's music at the small parties they gave and everyone would agree the music they made together was born in heaven.

When Christine died at the age of sixty-three, Erik took her body back to Paris and granted Raoul the right to arrange for her funeral and put his surname on her grave. That was the only thing he could do for the unlucky man who had won, and lost Christine's love. His last gift to the angel who brought him back to life was a single red rose, on which with a black ribbon was tied the ring she had worn for the last twenty years as a symbol of their love. Then he returned back to England and to their children, now young people of considerable beauty and honourable character.

Meg Giry watched as Raoul took the little music box away from the auction. She knew his story. She wondered why he had bought the little piece of art. Afterwards, as he laid it gently on Christine's grave, he wondered the same thing himself.

Years had eased the pain off but a sad sigh still escaped his lips at the sight of the rose and the ring, a final testament to a love that transcended everything he had ever witnessed.


End file.
